The bus pulls out after midnight. I’m itching to sleep, to wake up at the border and go through the motions of reentry into my country of origin. In Montréal there’s someone waiting. But traffic isn’t moving, and I can’t settle down

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

And I need all the reasons I can find not to hate myself. But it’s hard. Even the idea makes me shiver. Because I see loving myself like looking down on others. Riding around on a high horse. And I never want to think I’m better then the people I see on the street. The ones who have it rough.   The ones who don’t fit in.   The ones I see my own face in.  
Read more
The math is easy. My life minus drinking equals downward spiral. At least when I couldn’t see straight I had someone to go to bed with, someone to wake up for. It was beautiful. J’ai eu ma raison d’être. Now things aren’t clear. I get on a bus headed to work. Though I don’t know what for. 
Read more
It’s barely five am and already warm on the street. The smell of spring is noticeable. I relax. I allow myself to believe winter is over. No more snow. This year was easy. But the sound of approaching footsteps wrecks my bliss. There’s always a chance for predawn violence. I prepare. 
Read more